


The Best Defense Part V: The Visit

by kronette



Series: Best Defense [5]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place after Adam's graduation from Watcher Academy.   Methos discovers something happening in the Watchers and seeks an old friend for advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Defense Part V: The Visit

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 1999 under my other pseud, Shelley Wright.

November, 1992  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Adam! What are you doing here?" Darius ushered his friend into the abbey and looked around carefully before shutting the door.

Methos took in his old friend's appearance. There was a tightness around his eyes and mouth that had not been present at their last meeting. A sign of the times. "I came by to see you. Aren't I allowed to visit an old friend?" he asked, though without his usual sarcasm. He kept his tone light, knowing that this was a grievous time for Darius. Richard Ryan and Tessa Noel had been gunned down several weeks ago. Tessa had died; Ryan had come back. While any new Immortal was a potential threat, Methos had bigger problems. They all did.

"You shouldn't have come," Darius chided. "It is too dangerous."

Methos sighed and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I needed to come." He paused and softened his voice. "I heard."

Darius merely nodded and turned to his alcove.

Methos followed silently and slipped into his customary chair. "They were here not long ago," he stated.

"Yes," Darius sighed as he slowly sank into the chair opposite Methos. "Grayson was after me. Duncan was challenged in the process. He brought Tessa and Richie here for sanctuary. They stayed about a week." The priest's voice softened. "It was pleasant."

"As pleasant as possible with the undercurrent that MacLeod might not come back," Methos rationalized. "How did Tessa take it?"

Darius studied his folded hands. "She is -- was, very headstrong, but sensible. She was a true lady. I think she could have handled Duncan's death had it come."

"And the boy?" Methos quietly asked.

At that, Darius sighed. "So full of life. So inquisitive. He wanted to learn French to 'pick up the ladies'," he quoted, smiling slightly. The smile faded quickly as he continued, "Duncan told him about us, knowing one day he would join us. I just wish it had not been so soon."

"So MacLeod took him as his student?" Methos asked, not out of curiosity, but of courtesy. He had access to all Watcher records; he knew MacLeod had taken the Ryan boy in several years ago. He also knew MacLeod could not turn him away now.

"Of course," Darius stated, as if there were no other answer. "He would not have it any other way, though he is hurting badly. He and Tessa were together for too short a time. To lose her and to gain a student at the same time is..."

"Cruel," Methos finished for him, though he doubted the priest held the same opinion.

"I was thinking more along the lines of overwhelming," Darius replied dryly. "Though I would agree with you, my friend. Fate is sometimes cruel."

Methos toyed with a fold in his jeans, trying to decide the best course of action. Darius was slightly distracted today, and it was throwing him off. He was used to the priest acting a certain way. Today there was something...different. There was a sense of acceptance around the old Immortal, but what had Darius accepted? Had something else happened? Or did he share Methos' concerns about the night Tessa and Ryan had died?

"You had a purpose in coming here today," Darius stated abruptly. "Your manner and questions tells me so. What troubles you, my friend?"

Damn Darius for being able to read him. Methos had heard rumors around Headquarters about the night Tessa and Ryan died. He 'borrowed' MacLeod's Chronicle for that night. What he found shook him to his core. But before he did or said anything, he wanted confirmation from an outside source. If the events were true, a course of action would have to be decided, fast. "The kidnapping. There have been...rumors at Watcher Headquarters." He averted his eyes from the priest's penetrating stare. Darius could usually tell when someone lied, and this was as close to a lie as he ever hoped to tell him. "Disturbing rumors. I was wondering if MacLeod had mentioned anything unusual about that night."

"You could always ask him yourself." Darius was never one to give up easily, and his constant praise of MacLeod was starting to get to Methos.

He shook his head. "I'm head of the Methos Project now, Darius. I've firmly established myself with the Watchers. I can't risk meeting up with any Immortal right now." His mouth quirked up in a smile before he finished speaking. "And no, you don't count."

"I am hurt," Darius casually remarked as he stood up and prepared a pot of tea.

"No, you're not," Methos remarked with a smile. "You mean a great deal to me, Darius. I trust you like I trust no other. You are the  _only_ Immortal I trust with my secret."

Darius turned and walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. His smile spoke of fondness and grave seriousness. "A trust I cherish. I realize what a precious gift it is, Methos. I would not betray you."

Methos felt his jaw drop in shock. "I never considered it. I would  _never_ consider it."

Darius patted his shoulder and the first real smile since he'd arrived bloomed on the weathered face. "Methos, I know you. Your trust in others is very fragile. However, your trust in me has never wavered, and I shall not do anything to betray it." His smile widened. "Or your faith."

Methos snorted at that. "I've gone religion before, Darius. I've no desire to dust off my robes this century."

"Faith is not just in God, my friend. Faith has many intonations."

They were straying further off-course. Methos had to get the conversation back to the night Ryan and Tessa died. "I don't need to discuss my faith right now, Darius. I have something very important I have to talk to you about." He took a deep breath. "Did MacLeod tell you anything about what happened?" he began again when the teapot whistle interrupted them.

Darius went to pour two cups, giving Methos time to compose himself. Darius always had a way of getting beneath his skin, seeing straight to the heart of him...he couldn't quite say to his soul yet, though they were working on that. Methos was usually out of sorts after an emotional encounter with the fifteen hundred year old priest, and this would appear to be no exception. "Thanks," he murmured as he accepted the steaming cup.

Darius resumed his seat opposite him as Methos sipped at the tea. "As to your question, I do not know. Duncan was too distraught when he called. I do not want to be another distraction."

"I doubt he would ever think of you as a distraction," the elder Immortal magnanimously offered.

A minute smile was Darius' only answer, and the two men shared silence for several minutes. Methos waited what he thought was a polite amount of time, then started the line of questioning that had brought him here. "I heard it was a random mugging?" he pried lightly.

"It was," Darius agreed. His concerned eyes locked with Methos'. "However, how she came to be on that street at that hour was not random."

The tone of Darius' voice confirmed what Methos already knew; there was more to the night that Tessa Noel and Richie Ryan died.

Darius continued, "Tessa had been held captive earlier that night. Duncan and Richie went to rescue her. They arrived in time. Duncan killed the kidnapper."

"Do you know the identity of the kidnapper?" Methos asked quietly. He met Darius' eyes, and a churning began in his gut, that feeling of dread he'd felt in Geneva. It was true. He could  _sense_ it was true. Darius' next statement confirmed it.

"Only that he was a Watcher."

Methos' eyes narrowed in anger. Only one Watcher had turned up dead in the last few weeks: Pallin Wolf, his old Academy rival. A bad taste filled his mouth as he realized the full implications. "He used the Watchers to hunt and kill us."

"It appears so," Darius answered quietly.

He voiced the one question he dreaded the answer to. "Do you know if there are others?"

Darius stood up and walked to the small window. He kept his back to Methos as he admitted softly, "I have reason to believe so." His voice cracked on the last word, and Methos felt it deep in his bones.

He felt pressure behind his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. So, it was true. There was a splinter group of Watchers who wanted them dead. And somehow he doubted that these Watchers would care  _which_ Immortals they killed. None of them were safe, not even Darius. Darius was so used to living at the church that Methos feared he had forgotten that mortals had no compunctions about killing on Holy Ground. A simple 'Darius, hide yourself away' would do no good. But if someone else were in danger -- say, the oldest Immortal and an old friend -- then maybe he would agree. "Tell me I just misheard you," Methos begged softly.

"I am afraid not, old friend. I have been hearing rumors through various sources. There is an underground movement to rid the world of the impurity of man." The shoulders lifted the heavy cloth robe and fell back silently. "Us."

It was worse than he feared. "They're organized?" He went immediately into strategic mode. "Do we know numbers?"

Darius returned to the table. "A half dozen confirmed, another dozen suspected. They are very careful."

Methos shifted forward in his chair. "M.O.?"

"It varies. Some work as Wolf did, as individuals. Some are in small bands, ganging up on unsuspecting Immortals." Darius' voice quieted and he stared Methos straight in the eye. "I fear for you, my friend."

Yes, Darius did fear for him, but not for himself. Methos had to get Darius as far from Paris as possible. Out loud he said, "Not to worry, Darius. I know how to watch my back."

"Your back is not what I worry about. It is your neck," he chided softly.

"I'll be fine," he dismissed. If there was one thing Methos was notorious for, it was disappearing when things got sticky. Being in the middle of the Watchers at the start of a war against Immortals was as sticky as it got. The intensity shining from Darius' gaze was what he was waiting for.

"Methos, you might be working with one of them on a daily basis. What if an accident happens?" Darius rationalized. "What if a paper cut heals too quickly? What if you are challenged? There are too many variables. You need to resign."

"I need to stay until I know their names," he insisted. _Come_ on, _Darius. Don't let me down._

The intensity faded to concern. "Methos, this is not like you. You need to go underground."

The opening he had been waiting for. He leaned forward and pleaded, "I will run if you run with me, Darius. It is not safe for either of us. For any of us."

"I am needed here," Darius replied quietly.

"Darius, they are  _killing us_!" he stressed. "What makes you think they won't go after you?"

"I cannot say what they think." He suddenly smiled that calm, serene smile, the one that usually drove Methos insane. It said that the priest knew something he did not. "I have devoted the rest of my life to serving God. If I am to die, I want to die serving Him."

The oldest Immortal sat back slowly in his chair, shock numbing his mind. "Darius. You can't want to die."

Darius shrugged lightly. "I am not afraid of death."

Methos fixed him with a glare. "That is not what I asked."

Darius inclined his head in a slow nod of agreement. "This has been my home for centuries. The brethren here know of me and do not question my actions." He stared down at Methos, stubbornness etched across his features. "I will not be driven from my home and my service for fear of death."

"Darius! Stop this talk,"  _please_ he added mentally.

Darius leaned over, laid his hands on Methos' shoulders and locked gazes with him. "Promise me when the time comes, you will speak with MacLeod," the priest said quietly.

'When the time comes?' Why did that phrase sound ominous? "Darius, what are you saying?" His eyes widened as realization hit. Darius intended to let them kill him. "You can't mean...you  _don't_ mean..."

"I have sensed a coming force for some time," the other Immortal explained calmly. "I think this may be it. I have known for some time that I will not survive this force."

Darius had been a constant in his life since they met over seven hundred years ago. He had taken a half-mad, starving shell of a man and given him shelter, food and friendship. The priest's gentle teachings had helped him come to terms with his life of killing. Darius alone knew the depth of his cruelties and accepted him in spite of them. No one on this earth understood him the way Darius did.

He was vaguely aware of hands squeezing his shoulders in support. "No. Darius, you have to live. You can't just... _sit here_ and let them kill you." He suddenly exploded out of his chair, knocking it backwards. "I won't let you!" he shouted.

Darius remained damnably quiet and serene. "You cannot avoid the inevitable, my friend. My time on this earth is limited."

"I won't let you sacrifice yourself for some  _feeling_. This is  _real_ , Darius." Methos drew his sword and threatened, "I'll kill you and take you with me."

The smallest of smiles graced Darius' lips. "You cannot do that."

His hands shook with emotion but his voice was steady. "Why not?" he growled.

Darius folded his hands together in a gesture of non-aggressiveness. "Because you know it is not what I wish. I want to die here, in my home."

This was _not_ how things were supposed to go. Darius was supposed to want to protect the oldest Immortal, going away with him and hiding out until the blasted killing was over. He was supposed to listen to reason. He was supposed to  _live_. Methos threw his sword onto the table. "Then take this and fight them," he ordered quietly. He knew it was probably a pointless gesture, but he had to try. There was always a tiny spark of hope that Darius would pick up the sword again and enter the Game. But deep down inside, he knew it would not happen. Foolish hope. One day he hoped to stamp that out.

The priest shook his head. "You know I cannot do that either."

He could hear the desperation in his voice as he scowled, "Then I'll fight for you." Even as he saw the pain in Darius' eyes, he demanded, "Just who are you to let them kill you? You taught me that each of us is important. That includes you, old man. You're probably the most important one of all of us. I won't let this happen. I won't!"

"Methos, you cannot stop them. Prejudice is one of the hardest things to fight. If they fear us, nothing we do or say will convince them otherwise. This will turn into a battle between them and us. Many will die on both sides, perhaps until one side is utterly destroyed. Is that what you want?"

"I hate feeling unsafe in an organization dedicated to watching my own kind. I hate fearing for my friend's lives. I hate mortals thinking they're better than us. I hate..."

"Far too much, my friend," Darius interrupted softly. "Hatred will not stop this. It will only feed the rift between us. I have chosen my path, my friend. I will remain here."

He shook his head, baffled. "I don't understand, Darius. Why are you doing this? Why don't you want to live?"

"I want whatever God has intended for me. If that is death, then so be it."

"How do you know that? How can you be sure?"

Darius shrugged again. "Simple faith."

Methos fell silent. As stubborn and loud as he was, Darius was equally stubborn, but his arguments were fought with quiet assurance. He could not disagree with what the priest said. He couldn't go against Darius' wishes. Sadness washed over him as he realized what he was admitting. He would return to the Watchers and continue his research and Darius would remain at the church. And possibly die.

"If anything happens to you, I will miss you, Darius," he said softly. He couldn't look his dear friend in the eye. "You are truly one of the best of us. And you are far better than I."

Darius' calm voice washed over him. "Do not sell yourself short, my friend. You have accepted yourself and your past actions. You have survived the longest of all of us."

"But I have not lived," he stated suddenly. "You have said so yourself."

"Perhaps it is time you did," Darius prodded gently.

"Perhaps," Methos murmured. Absently he noted the time and realized he had been gone from Headquarters most of the afternoon. He stood and reluctantly announced that he had to go.

"I will see you Saturday," Darius reminded him.

"Yes," Methos agreed. Saturday mass was the only time it was truly safe for him to be there. As it was, he took great risk every time he set foot inside Darius' alcove. "Until then, be well, my friend."

"Be well." Darius stood and walked him to the altar.

Methos' last glimpse of the priest was of him in the doorway, hands tucked inside the sleeves of his robe, a half-smile on his face.

The end


End file.
